


Phoenix

by sweetcarolanne



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Choking, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/F, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Revolution, Royalty, Scheming, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22443646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/pseuds/sweetcarolanne
Summary: The revolutionaries have won, and the wicked queen has been dethroned... or has she?
Relationships: Scullery Maid Turned Revolutionary/Wicked Queen (Original Work)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madeinessos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeinessos/gifts).



> Dear recipient, I love all your prompts and hope you enjoy the story I chose to write! <3
> 
> Many thanks to my anonymous beta.

It was the same palace, with the same royal purple and gold-threaded tapestries on the wall, and the bed was draped with its usual scarlet satin quilt. Sweet vanilla incense perfumed the air, and Briya wore a night-robe of red silk as she always did when she retired to her private bedchamber for the evening, anointed with her favourite exotic floral scents and ready to command yet another pretty paramour to kneel before her.

Except now, the bedroom no longer belonged to Briya, and she was now the one upon her knees. And at long last, the ennui that had haunted the former monarch for almost forty years had dissipated in a bloody haze of revolutionary fervour from outside in the city streets and from within the palace gates. 

Slim but strong fingers gave a sharp tug on Briya’s flowing golden locks, and she almost shrieked at the pain. She looked up into the merciless dark eyes glaring down at her and had to fight to repress an amused smile.

The girl looked ridiculous in the little white tunic worn by all the Angels, as these upstart rebels called themselves, but she was a beauty nonetheless. Her short dark hair framed her face like that of a nymph in a story-book, and her olive skin looked deliciously kissable in the candlelight. 

_The little bitch is learning_ , Briya thought, searching her memory for her captor’s name, and then all of a sudden becoming wet between her legs at another vicious hair-pull from the girl. 

“Any insolence from you, and you’ll be joining your former ladies-in-waiting in the dungeon,” the girl snapped, her pretty face contorting into an exaggerated sneer that did make Briya smirk this time, and then scream as one small hard hand, its palm still rough from scrubbing floors, flew across her face with a stinging slap.

Arie, that was what this she-fiend styled herself now. Heaven only knew what her name had been before, or if she had even possessed a name before the uprising of the Angels. This young pretender to regal power, barely out of her teens, who had once been one of the many minions toiling away in the castle’s sculleries and kitchens. One of the ash-covered, faceless nonentities who Briya may have had dragged upstairs to be taunted and beaten for her entertainment. 

Or perhaps Arie had not been among those past victims and had recently sought work in the palace, a rebel spy biding her time among the plebeians until she was ready to strike against the hated queen. Briya was sure she would have remembered those gloriously cold eyes, full of a burgeoning, exquisite cruelty.

Another slap rang out, no doubt leaving a vivid red mark against the pallor of Briya’s face, and then those thin but relentless hands were locked around Briya’s slender throat, crushing and bruising the softness of Briya’s skin. Briya fought in vain to breathe, pushing back against that unyielding choke-hold with all her strength, but it was not nearly enough to dislodge that tireless grip.

It seemed like an eternity before Arie let Briya go, and Briya was scarcely able to catch her breath before she was being smothered again, this time beneath a raised white cotton skirt and between the naked thighs of her tormentor. 

Arie did not even have to give the order for Briya to perform the act they both desired.

Briya’s tongue sought the salt-sweetness of Arie’s cunt, its tip circling and then lapping over her clit with a wild passion she did not even know she felt. Lust and hatred, together with the slightest hint of awe, battled for supremacy in Briya’s heart. 

Arie’s fingers, their grip seeming weaker than before, wound through Briya’s hair again and yanked. Briya managed to conceal a chuckle underneath a whimpered moan, and worked one of her own long fingers into Arie, wondering how long it would take to bring the ruthless dictator, not so carefully concealed inside this so-called woman of the people, to the surface.

 _And in this chamber_ , Briya thought as Arie cried out, writhing with the first of many orgasms, _I shall rule where it really counts, a phoenix rising from ashes, the power behind the throne…_


End file.
